


Her Name

by Ohlookitstomorrow



Category: The Worst Witch (TV 2017), The Worst Witch - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, Pining, Sexual Content, angst..., lot's of pining
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-17
Updated: 2019-04-11
Packaged: 2019-10-30 12:50:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17828897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ohlookitstomorrow/pseuds/Ohlookitstomorrow
Summary: Whoever said, 'time is a healer,' was most definitely lying... your name is a dying breath on my lips.Pippa has thought of Hecate each day, even though three decades have separated them. Even in the darkest, most abysmal times, Hecate has not once left her mind.It's so unlike the reality of life, and a life lived withouther.





	1. Time Is No Eraser

**Author's Note:**

> I had originally planned on posting this for Valentine's Day, but I thought it was a little too angsty, so, excuse my lateness.
> 
> Each chapter focuses on a specific moment in Pippa's life where she's thought of Hecate.

She felt the darkness from behind: tendrils of hair, like feathers of a raven, sprawled over her shoulder, weaving through her golden curls with each shift of movement, drowning her in a sea of black.

Breath came hot and heavy at the shell of her ear, her body shook as fingers delved through her folds.

When her name was whispered into the dead of night, it was all too real. She clenched her eyes tightly, trying to dampen down the cries in her mind, trying to focus on the sensation between her legs.

In a far off recess of her memories, she heard her own voice as it moved throughout the years, muffled, as though it was being relayed to her from another world. 

Her pleas were loud until they weren’t. The same word over, and over, dwindling, finally losing all form of sound, a mere breath whispered into a pillow.

When the onslaught of pleasure became too much, that was how she came apart, that same name wordlessly mouthed as each muscle in her body spasmed.

When, finally, she lay still, cold like a marble statue, despite the humidity of mid-June, she felt the brush of hard nipples, and the pattern of rough lips as a feminine form lingered over her.

Pippa wept uncontrollably: the face of a watch was no eraser, not for pain so great.

She refused to say the name, not again.

She denied the bleak reality.

It wasn't her: she'd never been there, nor would she ever.

It wasn’t the first time in thirty years that Pippa Pentangle had been self-enforced to turn and run when reality clawed her from what might have been.

It wasn’t the first time in thirty years that Pippa had to apologise profusely, and run from the bed of a willing woman... all because she looked like _her_.

She looked like her, but Pippa knew she wasn’t. And that would never be enough...


	2. Cold And Lonely

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Somebody had pushed Hecate into the lake... but Pippa has had great practice when it comes to self-control._

Water. It came down on from above in ice-cold torrents, but still, the heat on Pippa’s skin would not leave: it encased her like a flame, kindled from deep within.

She’d been in the lake when the flame was lit. She’d jumped in of her own accord, unlike Hecate, who’d, yet again, fallen prey to another of their classmates, cruel jokes.

They’d all stood cackling on the bank, like the witches cast as villains in ordinary fairytales. 

Fury had taken hold of Pippa in a vice-like grip the moment her eyes landed on her best friend, standing in shock, water up to her shoulders.

But Pippa was crafty: had she reacted on her instincts and turned Ursula Hallow into the vile creature she resembled, it would only be Hecate who'd face the repercussions.

No one but Pippa was laughing when she took a running jump, landing feet from Hecate with a gigantic splash.

That had broken Hecate from her stunned stupor, the brunette had waded to Pippa’s side concern clouding her beautiful, sharp features, quickly followed by confusion when she saw the gleeful smile on Pippa’s face.

“I seem to be rather wet, Hiccup...”

Hecate had flashed her one of those oh, so rare, bashful smiles; the pallor of her cheeks, topped with dusty pink, her eyes, shielded by long, dark lashes, her bottom lip, trapped in the bite of her teeth - Pippa _longed_ to kiss it free.

As they’d stood to get out, she chanced a look toward her friend, and immediately, she’d regretted it: Hecate was drenched, her clothing, plastered tight to her skin, the stark white of her shirt, rendered translucent. 

The temperature of the water had caused natural effects, but Pippa thought her feelings - as her eyes were drawn to the hardened buds atop her friend’s breasts - completely _un_ natural.

The walk to her dorm room had been torturously silent, images of possibilities searing themselves on Pippa’s brain. 

She was almost a woman, on the cusp of her 18th Birthday, but walking with Hecate, nervously wondering what to say, Pippa felt very much like a child.

Fighting the urge to invite Hecate in when they finally reached her room, had been extremely difficult. 

Luckily, they’d both agreed that warm showers were the best remedy - but just thinking of Hecate; only two doors away, running her hands through luscious, long hair, palming soft, round breasts, had Pippa turning the thermostat as cold as could be.

She knew the only way to cease the heat, and its persistent torment was to let go... to allow herself to really feel.

But that would be a betrayal of Hecate’s trust, would it not?

Pippa could imagine the look of disgusted horror that would cross her friend’s face if she knew what Pippa wanted, what she needed.

She couldn’t handle anymore, she was too weak. A second longer and Pippa thought she would succumb to spontaneous combustion.

The water was shut off, and she sank to the tiled floor of the shower, her hands reaching between her own legs, one name, a caress of her tongue, echoing around the lonely room.

“ _Hecate_...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little less angsty, perhaps?
> 
> You can find me on;  
> tumblr @ohlookitstomorrowff  
> instagram @ohlookitstomorrow


	3. Soon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Fine... fine,” Hecate sighed, her back, once again, stiffening. She sat ramrod straight, while Pippa lounged on her bed, allowing the scent of Hecate to overtake her senses. “But I only know... what... w-what I’ve read... from books-“_

"What do you think would happen if a witch loved another witch?”

The brush in Hecate’s hair ceased to move, comically suspended between the crown of her head and the ends of midnight-inky curls.

Hecate's dark eyes, glowing bronze in the candlelight, slowly focused on Pippa’s through the reflection of the mirror.

Pippa felt her breath catch as she awaited Hecate’s response.

“What do you mean?” 

Averting her eyes, Pippa mumbled; “if two witches... loved each other... the way a witch should love a... wizard... what would you think?”

When Hecate failed to answer, Pippa turned her head to find her friend studying her hands; like she often did with a potion’s textbook, mind, all-encompassed.

“Most people think it’s wrong,” Pippa whispered, “Do you think that way too, Hiccup?”

“No,” Hecate choked out, “I don’t think it’s wrong... do... do you?”

“No,” Pippa quickly answered.

Hearing that, Hecate seemed to relax, the tension of her shoulders melting away.

“Hecate?”

“Yes?”

“What would two witches do... if they were to make love?”

With her eyes blown wide, Hecate’s mouth fell open in shock.

Pippa knew the answer, of course - guiltily, she would have to admit to herself she imagined it each night, her mind still lucid enough to put a name to her fantasied, lover’s face.

_Hecate._

She wanted to know if Hecate knew. She wanted to hear Hecate explain; to listen as that low, clear-cut, sultry tone described the landscape of Pippa’s dreams.

“Pippa... I hardly think this an appropriate conversation-“

“Oh, please, Hiccup?” Pippa flickered her eyelashes and pouted. A face, she knew, would exasperate Hecate, and have her friend indulge her, if for the simple reason to get peace.

“Fine... fine,” Hecate sighed, her back, once again, stiffening. She sat ramrod straight, while Pippa lounged on her bed, allowing the scent of Hecate to overtake her senses. “But I only know... what... w-what I’ve read... from books-“

“You’ve read books on the matter?” Pippa questioned, intrigued. “ I didn’t even know such books existed.”

“Yes... there are certain types of... of... romantic novels, that depict the love between two women...”

“Explicitly?”

“Yes...”

“And you’ve read them?”

“I-I,” Hecate blushed crimson, “well, yes...”

Tremors of arousal shook Pippa to the core at the thought of Hecate absorbed in a book that depicted a whole manner of risqué things: what did Hecate, straight-laced Hecate, do when the words swarmed her mind? Pippa didn’t know, but by hook, or by crook, she wanted to find out!

“Tell me about them...?”

Hecate’s head snapped toward her - Pippa had never seen such fright in another’s eyes.

“Pippa, I-“

“Please, Hiccup... please tell me?” 

Pippa’s whisper filled the room with tension, thick like fog. Hecate swallowed more than a few times, before garnering control of her mouth and agreeing to Pippa’s plea; “alright.”

Her natural instinct was to sit up straight and hang onto Hecate's every word, rapt with attention. It wasn't the first time Pippa had to curb her desires when thinking of her dearest friend. 

Trying to keep Hecate as calm as possible, Pippa chose to stay as she was, attempting to maintain the feel of a normal conversation.

“What,” Hecate coughed, her eyes circling a dry patch on the wall over Pippa’s shoulder, “what, would you like to know?”

Pippa’s mind raced with the possibilities; ‘everything,’ she almost said; but instead she allowed something far more intimate to slip past her lips - “tell me your favourite part... tell me your favourite thing you’ve read... what was it like... how did it... how did it make you... feel?”

Hecate’s eyes darted about frantically, her mouth opening and closing, her tongue curling in a knot.

“Hiccup-“

“I have to go...”

“What?!” Pippa sat up so fast, her head was left spinning - she couldn’t let Hecate retreat, not now. “What do you mean, you have to go? This is your room!”

“I don’t think this is a good idea,” Hecate sat on her hands, biting her lip as though she were in pain. “I-I... please, Pipsqueak-“

The soft plea with which Hecate spoke her name, _their name_ , softened Pippa: she rushed over to where her friend sat at the dressing table and crouched low in front of her, only now could she see the anguish on Hecate’s face, and she cursed herself for having caused it, for allowing her sordid desires to lead the way.

“It’s alright, we don’t have to talk about it, I just thought... it doesn’t matter, Hiccup, it doesn’t matter, let’s just forget it, hm?” 

Hecate smiled thankfully, her head nodding minutely: her cheeks were still red with warmth, and grew even hotter when Pippa soothed the soft skin with the pad of her thumb.

“Good,” Pippa whispered, her voice trembling - being so close to Hecate was always hard, but after such a conversation... Pippa thought thumbscrews and shackles would be more appropriate attire compared to the silk of her nightgown. 

She traced her fingers from pale skin to dark curls - watching Hecate unfurling her hair each evening, was Pippa's favourite time of day, and each time she witnessed it, she longed to take over.

“May I finish combing your hair for you?”

“I-I...” Hecate swallowed audibly, “...yes...”

Pippa curtailed her elation, settling for a small smile as Hecate turned to face the mirror once more.

The moan that accompanied a slight shiver as the comb in Pippa’s hand touched Hecate’s scalp, did not go unnoticed, and standing behind her best friend, Pippa was at war with her own emotions.

Her stomach tightened, her flesh tingled, the nub between her legs was painfully sensitive, begging to be touched, and Pippa felt utterly sick with guilt.

This was Hecate. Hecate, whom she loved. Whom she would always want. Always need.

But Hecate didn’t feel the same. She never would.

So Pippa had to take what she could, when she could, accept anything Hecate chose to give her, even if it was never enough.

Pippa _knew_ it would never be enough.

She knew she’d be trapped in this purgatory, forever.

Hecate was a goddess, as her name suggested, Hecate ruled with magic, and Pippa was powerless in the face of it.

Her defences were non-existent. She had set herself up for the greatest heartbreak, and she knew it was inevitable, soon to be realised.

And as she waited for Hecate on the pier a week later, broomstick in hand, the crowd at her back, Pippa was thankful for the rain, it masked the sight of her tears and the sound of her sobs.

_Soon_ , had come far too early.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are things getting less angsty yet?
> 
> I know I've said this more than a few times in recent weeks, but I'm so sorry that I'm so late with chapter 5 of In These Lines You'll Find Our Story: I've started selling pelmets and they take a decent amount of time to make, and then I have to go and fit them... but they do look pretty, and it is fun, but it's just left me with less time to spend on my writing. Please forgive me.:)
> 
> Anyway, as always, don't be afraid to tell me what you think: comments, and the like, are always much appreciated.
> 
> You can find me on;  
> tumblr @ohlookitstomorrowff  
> instagram @ohlookitstomorrow
> 
> Catch:)


	4. Half Moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _During the first few weeks of term, Pippa often spent her evenings tending to her newest students, some of them plagued by homesickness._
> 
> _She knew too well the feeling of being alone, and lost, away from the ones she loved._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few words to ease myself back into the feel of writing...

Setting down a new path was always daunting, even for the most seasoned of travellers, and Pippa was no exception to that rule.

Although, outwardly, she maintained the perfect facade of composure - and confidence and control, as she’d been told a long time ago - Pippa still felt nervous at the thought of a new venture.

She’d been nervous when opening Pentangle’s, opening her life, and her heart, to hundreds of students and staff.

She’d been nervous because the last time she attempted such a feat, all had gone wrong and she’d made a complete mess of things, her own tattered heart serving as a permanent reminder.

She was but a girl then, and now, nearing her mid-thirties, Pippa was ever so glad she’d taken the plunge and allowed herself to be vulnerable once more. 

Pentangle’s was her life, and Pippa could not have coped all those years without its constant presence. It wasn’t just bricks and mortar, not just a school, here, she’d created a home, an idea she’d only ever dreamed about.

There was still something missing, however, something that would never be found. But, nonetheless, Pippa kept a window open, in the highest tower, out of bounds to all but her, hoping that one day, what was lost would return.

Her heart wasn’t whole, but no longer was it broken: half of it beat beneath her breast, full of happiness and life, while the other half had departed her body, but it wasn’t lost.

Pippa knew where it was, but she had no wish to retrieve it. For one does not reclaim what has been freely given.

Her own experiences in life gave Pippa empathy for others, especially her students, and she had endless compassion for her young charges.

During the first few weeks of term, Pippa often spent her evenings tending to her newest students, some of them plagued by homesickness.

She knew too well the feeling of being alone, and lost, away from the ones she loved.

Even though she’d never missed home during her own schooling, Pippa prided herself on being able to understand and listen, often soothing away any worries.

Fearing the dark was another common woe amongst the children, and each time, Pippa pledged her help, and together they worked until the fear was abated.

This evening, she found herself perched on the end of a single bed, a small girl clinging onto her robes.

“It’s... just so... so frightening,” the girl sobbed, “does it not scare you, too, Miss Pentangle?”

“No,” Pippa answered honestly, “I’ve never been scared of the dark.”

“Why not?”

“There is no light without the dark: they fit hand in hand.”

Back in her own room, Pippa allowed herself to indulge in the whole truth.

In the dark, one could pretend, one could not see what was not there. The dark was comforting and still, and always the same. 

Pippa lost herself in it, her fingertips fluttering atop her breasts, _her_ name, bleeding from her lips to be swallowed up in the blackness.

It was easy to imagine in the dark, but when reality returned, and the light was switched on, Pippa never failed to cry.

Even though the dark and light went hand in hand, the sad truth was; they would never be together as one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for my long absence, before completing the final draft of ITLYFOS, chapter 5, I decided to write a few short lines to regain my flow. As always, thank you to those of you who read my stories and leave me heartwarming messages - they really are appreciated.
> 
> You can find me on;  
> tumblr @ohlookitstomorrowff  
> instagram @ohlookitstomorrow
> 
> Catch:)


	5. Fine Lines Never To Cross

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When the crowd dispersed, and only Pippa and her admirer were left in the hallway, _she_ was long gone, leaving no trace but the single tear Pippa refused to shed.
> 
> Only when she shuddered in release later that evening, did Pippa cry out.
> 
>  
> 
> _"Hecate."_

It was fifteen years before she saw a flash of raven hair and a sliver of moonlight skin, once again.

She'd been invited to speak at a quiet teaching conference on the outskirts of Cornwall - her vibrant wardrobe was in stark contrast to the dull personalities that filled the halls, Pippa had been sullen and despondent as she stood at the lectern, passionately praising her philosophy of modern magic, and not one single face had sparked with any interest. 

Rows of tired, gormless witches and wizards sat in front of her, with one notable exception - a middle-aged gentleman sat at the back. However, Pippa much suspected the gleam in his eye was more of a leer, and that it had nothing to do with channeling one’s energy through pure crystals.

Dragging herself slowly toward the next of her talks, in the most dignified of manners, of course, Pippa had been stopped dead in her tracks.

Her heartbeat quickened to an alarming rate, and breath left her lungs in a trembling cry, to soft to draw attention, but loud enough to leave a deafening ring in her ears.

Up ahead, shadowed slightly in the glare of light filtering through high arched windows, Pippa had caught the briefest sight of an ominous figure shrouded in black. 

It could have been anybody.

But it wasn’t.

Pippa knew that it was _her_.

She knew by the spark of telltale magic. It nailed Pippa to the wood panelling that covered the walls, her arms outstretched like a sacrificial offering.

In those few seconds, each moment they’d spent together, _each moment they’d spent apart_ , reeled through Pippa’s mind like scenes from a vintage film.

And then the shock passed, Pippa felt able to move once again, wobbling forward, careful not to trip over her own heart.

Just as she’d been about to call to the retreating figure, the door to her left opened, and out burst a gaggle of witches. 

One seemed to know her; a slender brunette, with large doe eyes and a glittering smile. At least five years Pippa’s junior, the young witch latched onto her, lavishing her with praise over a recent interview she’d given in some high-gloss witching publication.

When the crowd dispersed, and only Pippa and her admirer were left in the hallway, _she_ was long gone, leaving no trace but the single tear Pippa refused to shed.

Only when she shuddered in release later that evening, did Pippa cry out.

_"Hecate."_

“What?”

Pippa startled when her silent mourning received an answer. She sat up like a bolt had been driven through her spine, almost knocking her bed partner to the floor. 

Except, her plea hadn’t been silent at all: she’d called out for Hecate, as she so often did, but this time, her name had been much more than a mere whisper.

“W-what?”

Pippa could see the hurt, the heartbreak, overtake the young woman’s pretty features, and immediately, she recoiled in disgust. Disgust at herself.

She’d yet again fallen into bed with a woman, whose name she could not remember, or hadn’t bothered to ask for in the first place, just to forget.

But if there was one thing Pippa knew, it was that despite how hard she tried, despite trying to fill the gaping void with beautiful women - who, coincidentally, bore many similar characteristics, despite having numerous potions brewed by the second-best potioneer there was, despite all of that, she would never forget.

She’d allowed another woman to touch her, when all the while she’d been thinking of Hecate, _wishing_ for Hecate. It was horribly selfish of her and so utterly wrong that Pippa almost felt sick.

“You called me... you called me He-“

Whether by magic or fear, Pippa didn’t know, but she flew forward in the blink of an eye, and clapped her hand to the woman’s mouth.

“Don’t,” she rasped, “don’t say it.”

“But you-“

“I know,” Pippa interrupted pleadingly. “I know I did... I’m so sorry, I’ve been completely unfair and horrible to you.”

“It’s... I-I...” the Woman broke off, her syllables tailing into tears.

Awkwardly, Pippa reached out to offer a comforting hand but then thought better of it, she quickly snatched the offending limb away, drawing the sheet up to cover her naked form instead. “I’m sorry,” she bleated meaninglessly.

The Woman’s eyes turned hard, less doe-like, almost wild, feral even. “She was my potions mistress during my last year at Cackles. A more dark-hearted woman, I’ve never met.”

Anger rose like a flame in Pippa’s chest. “How dare you-“

“How dare I?” The witch laughed maniacally. “How dare you! How dare you seduce me into your bed and call me by that wretched woman’s name while my fingers are still inside of you-“

“I hardly seduced you,” Pippa growled defensively. “In fact, I remember it being quite the opposite. I remember you practically dragging me here - and in case you’d forgotten, this is your hotel room, not mine.”

Flopping back defeatedly, the woman hung her head low, whether in shame, or embarrassment, or, perhaps, a little of both - Pippa knew she was experiencing emotions similar.

“I wasn’t expecting some great whirlwind of a romance,” the young woman whispered. “Pippa Pentangle, the most beautiful witch in all of England, yet still single. I knew there had to be a good reason as to why your love life remains so secret... but I hadn’t suspected it was because of _her_. How could someone like you have fallen for someone as awful and cruel as her?”

“She’s not!” Pippa half shouted, before mumbling softly, “she’s not as cruel, or as heartless as she’d have everyone believe...”

“Then why isn’t she here?” The woman laughed humourlessly. “Why isn’t she the one lying beside you? Why is it me here instead?”

“It’s me that’s the problem, not Hec- not _her_. She doesn’t love me, never has... and never will... but that doesn’t make her heartless?”

The inflection at the end of Pippa's statement, regardless of the fact it was accidental, was most telling.

As she gathered her possessions and exited the suite, she almost wished that she, too, could hate Hecate. 

After all, they say there’s a fine line between love and hate, but in reality, even with the power of a wishing star, Pippa knew that was a line she could never cross.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I never planned my hiatus to be so long, but each time I've sat down to write, I've drawn a blank. Also, I know I've not replied to so many of your comments, I will get round to it at some point, but please know that they've made me smile and continue to be the reason for my determination to continue writing.
> 
> I had been trying to write this for days, but the words just hadn't looked right, if you know what I mean... Anyway, eventually, I managed to compose this at a funeral - not actually during the funeral, but as I was waiting for my Sister to eat as much as she could at the wake. It was her Gran that passed away and I was only there in case she needed me, however, it seems even my twelve-year-old Sister is better at navigating crowds than I am. So as I sat in a corner, alone, and waiting, I wrote fanfiction... at a funeral...
> 
> Thank you for your continued support, it really does mean the world to me.
> 
> Comments, and the like, are much appreciated, and you can find me on tumblr @ohlookitstomorrowff
> 
> Catch:)

**Author's Note:**

> Don't be afraid to let me know what you think - comments, and the like, are very much appreciated.
> 
> You can find me on;  
> tumblr @ohlookitstomorrowff  
> instagram @ohlookitstomorrow
> 
> Catch:)


End file.
